


Everlasting Constant

by babyrufus



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, Time Loop, the usual stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 14:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14167257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyrufus/pseuds/babyrufus
Summary: It always smelled like brimstone.





	Everlasting Constant

There’s no brimstone this time. An everlasting constant smell that wrecked Michael’s nostrils whenever he descended from the glorious heavens above, a putrid odor emitting from the wrecked carnage of whatever still survived on the Earth’s dying form.

It’s rather… earlier, than most timelines. The world isn’t destroyed yet, not entirely, there were wounds of course. With the crust split apart in various regions, bubbling lava from the second layer spilling over oceans and ash partially covering the bright, baby blue sky above intending to break the ozone layer to reveal the dazzling stars and planets.

It’s not the first time that God calls upon him at this point of time. An early defeat, perhaps, or just Michael being impatient for this timeline. He hates when they drag on for so long, expanding beyond what humans called ‘teenager years’ and into adulthood. Wasteful, keeping Earth alive for so long and the demons at bay.

So, earlier. Michael flies down with glistening armor and flowing locks- not as free as his brother’s, but strands untangling from their shape in response to bristling wind. Other angels are teeming besides him, getting upon the Earth with intent to start anew. They always leave Michael be, to do his sworn duty as God’s right-hand angel.

Killing his brother, Lucifer, was his job. Always the same. The other angels understand this, Michael assumes. Father told them so, but-

Soaring, various wings flapping viciously before stilling as he lands against the cool rock, Michael roams with intent. Looking for his brother was easy, follow the sound of childish wailing. Sighing, he stalks forward with sword dragging behind him with eyes orienting and lips pursed querulously. It’s been so long.

Then there’s a noise, a deafening one. His head snaps over, watches as Raphael staggers and sways, before roaring. Michael stares as a demon gnarls and warily backs away at the sight of the celestial being. Raphael's mouth downturns into an evident sneer, drawing his weapon and raising it so highly with the death-strike in mind, and Michael has half a mind to turn away before--

“ Akira! “

Lucifer. Michael whirls back around, is already dashing forward but stops himself when he sees blood, Raphael owlish and maw agape at the sight of the Morning Star stumbling and gripping at a grotesque stomach wound, and the demon ogling in what seems to be awe. 

No- Nonono. Michael is stunned at such a scene, seeing Raphael frantically survey and see Michael, before flying off quickly before consequences could come to him. Michael wants to go after him, inform God of this angel’s mistakes, but labored breathing and murmured nothings catch his attention instead. Michael cranes his head back over, eyes the demon--

Ah, no, it was the corpse. Akira.

Akira Fudo. The one human left on Earth before God sends down his angelic fighters, the everlasting constant besides his brother during the end of each timeline, and the leader of the... ‘Devilman’ army. Lucifer’s creation. Michael isn’t used to the sight of him breathing, skin full of life and eyes not glazed horridly over, it’s such an unfamiliar state of being the boy wore. For a moment, there’s not even any recognition before his mind reminds him of what his brother shouted before… diving in front of Raphael’s weapon.

“ Ryou. “

A choked thing, Michael frowns as he does nothing, remains stationary as the living corpse fades into his original human form. His brother shifts, pulled into their lap and hands replaced with Akira’s own to press against the wound. Pitiful, anything struck with an angel’s sword so directly was doomed to perish under such.

“ Akira. “

Michael’s grip tightens on the handle of his sword.

They’re murmuring, voices barely audible. For some reason, Michael can’t move. He only sees Akira’s hands card through blonde locks, push even harder against the lesion as Lucifer’s teeth grit visibly. Painful, that strike, but nothing compared to others he himself had inflicted- but it was…, rather daunting to see the roles reversed. With Lucifer’s skin paling further instead of blotching up in awful red to sob, and Akira’s flesh getting into various shades of pink instead of graying to resemble the corpse Michael was so used to seeing.

Michael can’t hear them. But something must be occurring between the pair, because, slowly and hesitantly, Akira’s blood-slicked palms relax against Lucifer’s wound, fluid drooling out excessively now and pooling around, tickling Michael’s toes.

There’s a realization that Michael doesn’t often see his brother die right in front of him. Of course, he’s slayed his brother plenty, but Father resets the Earth before he could see the full effects of such take place. Or whenever Michael cast Lucifer down, only seeing a spitball of fire plummeting down to the Earth below the angels, and smell the burning stench of boiling feathers and flesh. Nothing more, nothing less.

Roles reversed. Akira sobs and weeps, Lucifer is dying. Michael can’t fathom what he must tell Father.

“ I love you Akira.“

...

This was… new. 

Angels weren’t humans, not made like the creations. Father wanted something different, living and breathing, teeming heavily with… chemicals, ones that created what the evolved monkeys called: “ emotions. “ Love was just another thing, blossoming endorphins and various neurochemicals swirling into raw sensations of pure desire. God didn’t make angels with brains, not in the traditional sense anyway, there was no realistic way Lucifer could feel such a sensation.

Michael is confused, so bewildered as his fingers trace the heavenly material of his sword, watching as Akira’s lashes flutter open, wide and tracing out the lines of Lucifer’s slowly slacking face. A long stretch of time passes, agonizingly languid in all of its glory before Akira’s lips part to mutter: “ I know. “

A familiar sight were the tears dripping from Lucifer’s face, but it’s counteracted by their slender hand rising to gently caress the side of Akira’s face, similar to what his kin did to their corpse. So affectionate, loving- Michael’s eye-brows furrow. Then they’re smiling, and… it’s not what he’s seen in awhile.

Perhaps the last time Michael saw an upturn of Lucifer’s lips were so long ago, centuries back in the cloud-filled oasis of Heaven. One of excitement, disheveled and not many moments before his Father’s hand rose and defied against Lucifer’s declaration of war. Now it’s a shaky thing, foreign in all aspects before it goes familiarly lackluster and the hand falls from Akira’s cheek.

 

Michael knows what must happen. Kill... Akira, return to Heaven, the Earth is born anew.

He doesn’t move. Only listens to childish sobbing, snot-filled and frantic as hands grip at the limp corpse of Lucifer and rock them both shakily. 

… Hm. Seeing Lucifer’s glassy eyes staring blankly up, and Akira’s face awfully contorted, reminiscent of a toddler, is… a new sight. Michael swallows a thick lump that begun to form in the middle of his throat, takes a wobbly ( his balance always has been perfect- ) step towards the mourning couple.

It takes a moment before Akira’s head raises up, with his runny nose and bloodshot eyes, tears thickly coursing down their flushed cheeks. Their heart thumping is so loud from their bare chest, and with that Michael can recognize that they are afraid. But resigned, judging by them not making a single move to flee. 

( Had Lucifer ever been afraid of them? )

Michael begins to raise his sword, slowly.

 

Something warm tickles his skin. The sword drops in surprise, hard material clanging against the rocky ground below. Confused, Michael lifts his hand back and traces over his cheeks, feels the wetness dripping down. Tears. He looks at his stained fingers, brows drawn together in pure bafflement. Angels weren’t designed like humans, they did not react in such… emotional ways, did they? Chemical imbalances were impossible in angels. They-

Michael begins to take feverish steps backwards, tears still streaming. Akira doesn’t say anything, not a lick uttered as they spectacte the scene before them. Wings flapping nervously, Michael just wipes at his cheeks but more come, making his voice wobble and hiccup like a credulous infant. He can’t be here- not now, he-

He had to report back to his Father.

…

…

It always smelled like brimstone.

**Author's Note:**

> yall remember barbie girl by aqua? shit was lit


End file.
